The Last Unspoken Summer
by Waiting for my Soulmate
Summary: Tony/Ziva, What happens during the summer between Hiatus and Shalom. Now completed
1. Comfort

"_Starting three months ago Ziva, he has been visiting your apartment at least one night a week" - _Shalom

**Comfort**

His hands had threaded through her hair, gripping, cradling her head as he kissed her, his lips crashing down on hers with an almost desperation that she didn't have to try hard to understand. She could feel his pain, feel his fear, feel his search for something unwavering in the way he brushed his lips against her skin. She would have pulled away – because he wasn't thinking clearly, that much was obvious – but when she started to, he had reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, looking her in the eye. So she had stayed.

It wasn't anything she hadn't done before.

She couldn't pretend that this time wasn't different though. As he parked the car – because the last thing she had wanted to do after the day like theirs was get on a late-night bus – she thought back to what had happened. Gibbs had left. _Gibbs _had _left_. And she had known, when she watched him hand his badge to Tony, and when he turned his back on them, he didn't plan on coming back. Not even Abby's plea could stop him. They had stood, frozen in the Squad Room for almost a full five minutes before anyone had even thought to move. Abby had searched for comfort in Tony's arms, before he had passed her off to McGee. Ziva knew he couldn't handle being anyone's rock right now. He needed his own comforting.

That was where she fit in.

She understood him, better than he realised even. For Tony, sex was simple and automatic, and detached. Concentrating on undoing the buttons on his shirt meant that he didn't have to concentrate on other things. On Abby's heartbroken voice. On McGee's faltering surprise. On Gibbs, burnt and broken and barely remembering them, walking into the elevator, intending never to return. Keeping his lips busy with butterfly kisses and softly breathed teasing meant he didn't have to voice his fears about whether he could do this, whether he was ready to stand in shoes that seemed far too big for him. Taking her into his bed meant he didn't have to wake up alone.

She and Tony had been here before, all be it in pretend, but it wasn't much of a step to make it real. She did trust him. Did feel for him. Did believe in him, which is what he needed most right now. As her curls tumbled over her bare shoulders, she tried to let him know – through her kisses, her touches, the arch of her spine – that she had his back. That she, at least, would be going nowhere. Her hands on his body and his on hers were so he would know she was solid and real; the silence of the room said he didn't have to talk. She heard him anyways.

After, when the frantic had become calm, and the sweat was cooling, she lay, not quite relaxed, next to him. She didn't pretend to be asleep, didn't have to; Tony lay on his back, arms crossed behind his head, eyes fixed on the swirling ceiling fan. Since the end of the rain, the District had been heavy and humid and overbearing, but the Egyptian cotton was cool against her cheek. She didn't pretend to sleep, just watched him as he breathed in and out and said nothing. Anyone else would have said such silence was eerie for Tony. Anyone else would have pressed him to talk. If she had been anyone else, he probably would have.

By the time Tony made any sound, Ziva was fighting to stay awake. Earlier worry and tears, not to mention over 32 hours with no sleep meant that when he finally exhaled, and turned his head to look at her, her eyelashes were brushing slowly against her cheeks. She would have looked almost serene, save the hand disappearing under the pillow that he knew was clasped around her Sig. The sight of it almost made him laugh, and for the first time in what seemed like the longest-fucking-day-in-history, Tony felt a slight weight lift from his chest.

" Ziva?" he teased, stretching out the first syllable of her name so it echoed and trilled in the silence. He watched as she wiggled languorously and stretched, her bare legs and bare skin rubbing against his sheets and her cold toes brushing his calves.

She pushed herself up on one arm, blinking, her hair falling over her shoulder. " Yes Tony?"

The clock had just ticked over to 4:33am, he was still awake, his Boss was gone, and he felt like he was adrift in an ocean with no sight of land. Starlight trickled in through the gap in the curtains that neither one of them had bothered to close on their arrival, and highlighted the smooth contours of her face. She was dangerous, imperious, and unflinching, but in this light, she almost seemed beautiful. He cleared his voice.

" Nothing," was all he managed, and then feeling the ghost of a Gibbs-slap on the back of his head amended, " Thanks."

The feel of her fingers wrapping around his almost made him start, but as she murmured," Al lo davar," in a low, soft voice, he couldn't help but squeeze them back.

Laying back against his pillows, Tony once against stared up at the ceiling. For this moment, at least, the ocean in his mind seemed to be stilled. It was only the faintest of touches, her finger against his cheek. " Yasen, Tony. _Sleep._"

He felt her shift on the mattress, and for a moment he faltered. " You're not - " he started, and he could hear the trepidation in his own voice as it filled the quiet of the room. He didn't know that she too could hear it – hear it, and see it, and feel it in the tautness of his body next to hers.

" I will be here when you wake up," she promised, yawning and drowsy, though her shadowed eyes were fixed on his. " We will start tomorrow together, and work from there, yes?"

Her words were all he needed. Finally closing his eyes, he allowed his hand to search for hers, and held it tight. He didn't need to be able to see her to know she was amused. Leaning over, he kissed where he knew her smile would be, and was relieved to feel her kissing back. " Laila tov, Ziva."

" Buonanotte, Tony."

For tonight, just to have her there would do.


	2. Solidarity

**Solidarity**

They had stumbled blindly through the first few days, and before anyone knew it, a week has passed, and then two, and then a month had gone by without Gibbs. The spring had turned inevitably into summer, leaving DC sweltering and close, and by the time Tony had gotten used to sitting on the wrong side of the bullpen, he had gotten used to other things too: waking up to the smell of jasmine and sandalwood; a green toothbrush resting idly on the side of his sink; foreign and subtitled cinema mixing in with his James Bond dvds.

Neither one had expected it to go past that first comfort-sex thing. That lingering-attraction-comfort-sex thing. That essentially-curious-lingering-attraction-comfort-sex thing. But when they had made it through their first week – and their first case - 'Gibbsless', Abby had pointed out that she thought they all deserved alcohol, and a lot of it. Ignoring their overlapping protests, she harangued and pouted and alternated between smiling sweetly and stomping her platform-booted foot until she got her way. So it was that Tony had found himself in the corner booth of the Hawk and Dove – a haven for politicos and Federal types - late on a Friday, exhausted, but feeling oddly at peace as he watched Abby tease McGee as she and Ziva downed shots of tequila, Ducky nursing a large glass of froth-headed dark brown as he spoke at length to the bartender, who was mixing something sickly and green for Palmer.

He had been drawn from his musings by the feeling on a hand on his knee, and when he looked up he had been almost surprised to see Ziva had slid in the booth next to him. Her dark hair hung around her shoulders, curls long and loose with the heat, and her head cocked to one side, amused. " Abby says it is your round," she conveyed, swatting gently at his knee with the back of her hand, a prompting gesture.

" Tony!" Abby's voice was exuberant and her smile slightly crooked as she appeared at the table and pulled him across the pub to the bar, making him almost trip over Ziva's heeled feet as they passed. Abby didn't even notice. " Tony, Tony, Tony," she murmured, leaning up against the bar and looking at him intently for a moment before throwing her arms around his neck. She squeezed tightly, pigtails bouncing around her head and the chains of her skirt clicking against their bodies. " You're doin' real good."

She let go as abruptly as she had grabbed him, seemingly forgetting about him in an instant as she stood on tiptoe and leant across the bar, calling for another order of drinks. Tony didn't say anything as Abby poked him for his wallet and he handed over a fistful of bills without even checking what they were. Didn't say anything as he carried the glasses back to the table and Abby doled them out, knocking back her own shot and placing the glass on top of her head with a laugh. Didn't say anything an hour later as McGee advised Abby they called it a night, and he helped her into her coat and out of the pub, Abby waving merrily and tottering on her high platforms. Didn't say anything as first Palmer and then Ducky too wended their way from the bar with genial goodbyes.

Ziva sat next to him, a shot in front of her and her elbows propped on the scarred wood of the table. He watched her as she tossed it back with a flick of her head, not even flinching, and then ran a finger around the edge of the glass, collecting the lingering droplets. She didn't look at him. " She meant what she said, you know. Abby. Even though she misses Gibbs," – the name sounded so strange because they had all been trying so hard not to say it – " she is behind you. She knows that you are the right person for this job." Her tone was matter of fact as she licked a drop of spilled drink from her finger. " McGee also. He may not always act like it, but he does trust you."

" And you?" They were the first words he had spoken in what seemed like hours, soft and low, and accompanied by a curious frown and a glance over the top of his drink.

Propping her head in her hand, she turned and observed him. She crossed one leg over the other with a swish of material, her skirt creeping up her thighs, skin glistening in the weak light's glow. " Do you have to ask?"

Leaning over, he kissed her, the two of them hidden in the shadow of the corner booth. Her lips tasted like tequila and salt and lime. His hands threaded through her hair and the sensation was so familiar it almost made him startle. Hands pressed against his chest made him pull back, and as he cupped her cheek she murmured, " Stop, Tony." Her eyes were wide and dark in the dim light, and as he stared at them, he could feel his mind racing. He was about to argue when she spoke again, her voice hushed. " We should leave. Here, everyone can see."

So deeply ingrained, her impulse to exist in shadows, he didn't argue. Instead, he waited as she put on her coat, and they walked together to the exit. They didn't hold hands, but walked so close that their arms touched, and as he opened the door, her hair brushed against his cheek. It didn't take long to hail a cab. Or to get back to his apartment. Or to piss of his neighbours with something that wasn'this surround sound.

This time, they talked after: teasing one another until eventually Ziva's quiet laughter turned to yawning, and her head lolled to his shoulder. He pulled the navy sheets up over her, his hand lingering on her butt until she swatted him away with a half-conscious grumble. Her accent was much thicker in these moments between sleep and wake. Laughing, he settled his hand on her waist and waited for a renewed assault. When none came, he grinned triumphantly, and let his eyes drift closed.

In the dark she opened her eyes, and smiled softly.


	3. Protection

**Protection**

She fumbled with her keys. Of the three keyholes her eyes could see, her brain could not quite work out which was the real one, and she growled in frustration as she missed the lock again. The porch-mounted lamplight made her fragile head ache, and she squeezed her eyes shut against its invading presence.

" Here, let me do that." The keys were taken from her grasp and slid easily into the door with his free hand; the other retained a steady presence at her elbow.

Her feet were unsteady, but once inside the apartment she pulled away from him and concentrated on walking across the room unaided. " I do not need a baby-sitter Tony. I am quite capable of taking care of myself." She held her head up high, but her words were undermined by the way she clutched at the back of the couch, the butter-soft cashmere throw bunching between her white-knuckled fingers.

Closing the front door behind him with a click, Tony watched as she made her way to the bedroom, keeping one hand in contact with a steady surface at all times. " I'm sure you can, but Ducky said you shouldn't be left alone tonight, so I'm not." As she disappeared into the shadows of her room muttering under her breath, he found himself wandering, eyes scanning her tall wooden bookshelves. His fingers trailed along the keys of the piano, leaving a pitch-perfect scale echoing around the room. The books on display were vast and varied, and in so many different languages he thought she must have been being modest when she said she only spoke five.

He was in the middle of studying the photos on her walls – and trying to figure out where in the world each one was taken - when the sound of a crash and vehement cursing in Hebrew caused him to step hastily up to her bedroom door left ajar. " You okay?" he asked as he entered into the shadows – not waiting for an invitation - his eye quickly adjusting to the dim light. He found Ziva knelt on the floor next to a now-crooked end table, picking up scattered remnants of what he assumed used to be her side lamp. Her legs were bare amongst the shards, and she had at some point removed her blood-spattered sweater, leaving it in a ball on the distressed hardwood floor.

" I have crazy glue in my head and I just broke my lamp, do I look as though I am okay?" she exhaled, frustrated. She sounded annoyed, and for a moment he hesitated in helping her, but the sight of her crumpled on the floor, half dressed, her forehead resting in her palm made him come to his senses. He reached out for her arm and she didn't protest.

Making her sit on the bed, he picked up the remaining pieces of the lamp-base himself and deposited them in her trashcan. Crossing his arms over his striped-shirted chest, he regarded her with a frown. Brushing the side of her shoulder with his hand, he held the other up in front of him he asked, " How many fingers?"

Laughing, she didn't answer, but swatted him away, slipping under his outstretched arm and walking across the room before he had a chance to stop her. " I am taking a shower. If you insist on watching over me, you may join me. Otherwise, I will not be long."

Although his body urged him to take up her offer and join her under the pelting spray, his brain made him shake his head. " You go ahead. Yell if you need any help." His suggestion was met with a raising of her eyebrows, and she disappeared into the bathroom with a barked laugh. Moments later her heard the shower turn on, and decided to leave her to it.

By the time she exited her room, rubbing her hair carefully with a towel as so to avoid her wound and clad in nothing more than a grey NCIS sweatshirt and a pair of hiking socks, Tony had settled on her couch and was flicking through channels on her tv. Leaning his head back, he looked at her upside down. " I ordered us a pizza."

" Kosher?" she teased, pushing her still damp hair behind her shoulders and draping her wet towel over the back of a chair. She dropped down onto the couch next to him, pulling her legs beneath her so that their thighs were touching.

Taking a small brown bottle from his pocket, he shook two white pills into his palm. " Half vegetable." Holding out his hand to her, he nodded his head towards to glass of water on the coffee table that she hadn't even noticed until that moment. " Take these. Ducky said two before you eat."

Even as she took them from him, she argued, " Do I look like I am in pain, Tony?" She didn't mention the throbbing behind her eyes, or the way her skull still ached from being smashed into the concrete floor of the warehouse, hard enough to get blood everywhere and warrant an impromptu trip to the ER.

Picking up the glass of water, he rolled his eyes. " Stop arguing, Ninja Girl, and just take them already." He didn't give voice to the way his chest had tightened when he had seen their suspect throw her across the room like a rag-doll, or the way the sickening crack of her head had made him almost fumble his weapon.

After she had acquiesced and taken the pills, they argued over what to watch as Tony picked through what he called her 'pitiful' collection of dvds; mostly foreign language, he made her explain all the plots to him as he carefully considered their choices. He wouldn't admit it was a way of checking her memory - even though she suspected - and they became so sidetracked by a rambling narrative about Tony's first time watching 'Stand By Me', they hadn't even picked anything by the time the pizza arrived.

Tony almost laughed at the pizza boy's stunned expression – for Ziva has answered the door in a sweatshirt that barely skimmed her thighs - but used his best 'Gibbs-glare' just to see the boy's eyes flare in panic, and hear him stammer as he asked for the money. Though Ziva rolled her eyes, Tony placed a mock-possessive arm around her waist and waited for the kid to scurry back to his moped before he broke into a grin.

Across the street, there was a brief flash. Tony puzzled over it for a second, and then, assuming it was the neighbours' tv through the not-quite-drawn curtains, went back inside, closing the door tight behind him.


	4. Haven

**Haven**

Since getting out of MTAC almost fifteen minutes previously, Tony had been searching for Abby. She was not in her lab, not in Autopsy with Ducky and Palmer, not even at the Caw-Pow machine or in the ladies' room (he had bumped into Claire from Accounting outside and asked her to check). Odd thing was, she hadn't called up to tell him she was going home, as had become her habit in the last couple of months. Entering the Squad Room, Tony could feel the frown on his face, and knew his consternation was apparent when McGee looked up from the only occupied desk in the room.

" Something wrong Tony?"

" You seen Abby? She was meant to be walking me through ballistics from the Crane case and she's done a Houdini on me." Sitting down at the desk-which-wasn't-quite-his-desk, he tapped at his computer, pulling up the files that he had already read over so many times that the words blurred together, and the pictures were burned in his memory.

His attention was diverted from the screen when McGee spoke. " She was waiting for you when she got a call, said she had to go. She left her coat here though, so I'm sure she's coming back." His voice was calm, without even a hint of the irksome puzzlement that Tony was feeling.

Sighing, Tony picked up his coffee and took a long sip. He still thought it tasted like dirt, but the cream and sugar went some way to masking that, and at least it kept him awake. His earlier conversation with the Director raced around his head, and he shook it to try and make it go away. He really didn't need the distraction right now. Lifting the receiver, he punched a familiar number into the phone.

The line rang twice before it was picked up, and he was almost deafened by the sound of Death Metal blaring through the speaker. Pulling the phone away from his ear, he just about heard her yell, " Tony? Hang on!" before the music was turned down, and she spoke again. " Hey! Sorry, was having an Android Lust moment. I mean, you can listen to 'em quiet, but it isn't really the same. It's like this time, I was at this gig and I stood too close to the speakers - "

" Abs!" he cut her off. From her tone, he could tell that the number of Caw-Pows she had ingested that day had seriously outstripped the recommended allowance, and if he didn't stop her now he'd never be able to break into her flow. " Where are you? I thought we were going over the case?"

" We were! We are!" Her tone was apologetic, and he could hear the engine in her hearse straining as it rattled along. " It's just, Ziva called and she needed picking up, and then I got stuck on Capital again and there's a protest on Pennsylvania so I had to go the long way round. Did you know we're not paying our teachers enough?"

" Abby…" Tony couldn't help but keep the fatigue out of his voice. It had been a long couple of days filled with far more clandestine meetings with the Director than he would have liked, which meant he really wanted to get out of there, and this really wasn't helping.

" Sorry. Right. I'm just pulling into the Yard now. Meet me in my lab."

He hung up the phone without even saying goodbye, setting it in the cradle with slightly more force then he really needed. Pushing himself up from the desk, he grabbed his coffee cup and would have stalked to the elevator without another word, save McGee's curious expression.

" Apparently our Mistress of the Dark is an errand girl now" - then, off McGee's questioning look, added - " She had to do some favour for Ziva." Pressing the button of the elevator, he called back over his shoulder. " Go home Probie. Nothing going on that can't wait until tomorrow."

McGee coughed slightly before answering, gesturing towards his computer with a shrug. " I'll just, uh, finish up some stuff. See if Abby needs any help defragging the Ensign's hard drive after you've talked to her."

Tony raised his eyebrow, but for once, said nothing, and let the elevator doors slide shut behind him.

He had been down in the lab for just over a minute - trying to ignore the multiple eyes of his ex-Boss watching him from the numerous computer screens - when Abby ran in, pigtails bobbing behind her and car keys jingling in her hand. " I'm here! I'm here!" Throwing her keys down on the side, she fired up her computer, whizzing around to pull a sheaf of paper out of one of the printers. Her computer flicked through image matches at a speed that made him almost dizzy. " Sorry Tony!" she continued, picking up an earlier-abandoned Caf-Pow and sucking on the straw. " Ziva got thrown off of her bus so I had to go pick her up. And her house isn't that far away but you know my hearse doesn't like to go more than sixty and if I have the stereo on then the lights are kind of hinky."

Part of her babbled speech, at least, sunk into his brain, and pulled his attention away from the flicking screen. " Ziva got thrown off her bus?"

Nodding, Abby tapped at her computer as it beeped at her, scanning through results with a look of concentration. " Apparently these two guys got in a fight, and then she tried to break it up and she ended up punching one of them and so the bus driver man made her get off in the middle of nowhere. Okay, the middle of nowhere is probably a stretch 'cause this is DC and all, but you know, she was way up on Franklin…" She trailed off with a shrug, taking a hearty sip of her drink. " So I picked her up and took her home."

Rubbing his hand over his weary, stubble-rough face, Tony sighed. " I'm gonna kill her."

In an instant, Abby was bouncing on the balls of her feet and waving her hands around. She gulped her mouthful of liquid down with a wince. " Ouch! Brain-freeze!" she exclaimed before grabbing his shoulders. " You can't be mad Tony. It's Ziva, you know, she was trying to do the right thing."

" By punching him?"

Abby responded with only a guilty looking shrug.

" Whatever. Alright Abs, let's get this done. Don't know about you, but after this week, my bed is really calling me."

Climbing into bed was still on his mind as he drove through the city, hastily parked his Mustang, and ran up onto the sidewalk. Knocking on the solid wood, he leaned for a moment against the doorframe, reaching up and brushing aside the trailing leaves with his fingers. Hearing careful footsteps inside, he waited for only a moment before the door was pulled open.

" I think you and I need to have a conversation about good spanking and bad spanking," he teased with a tired grin, watching as she took in his appearance and rolled her eyes.

" The man was a _ben elef," _she shrugged, knowing that he would have already heard the whole story from Abby on her return to the Navy Yard – unless told specifically, Abby was terrible at keeping other people's secrets. " I showed restraint by not shooting him."

Noting how she flexed the knuckles of her right hand, he dropped his head to his chin and looked up at her, his expression almost one of disappointment. " Why didn't you call me?" His tone wavered somewhere between hurt and accusation, and was accompanied by a deep, cavernous sigh.

The look she gave him was almost unreadable; he understood shades and glimpses, but not the whole picture. Moonlight glinted off her olive-skinned shoulders, left bare by the plain white halter she had changed into since getting home. " Because I called Abby. You were in with the Director." Her tone was matter-of-fact, but she studied him carefully. The tension in his stance worsened at the mention of Jenny's name. " What's wrong?"

His fixed smile did nothing to hide the conflict she could see in him. " Why would you think something's wrong Ziva?" he asked, drawing out the first syllable of her name in a poor imitation of his teasing normalcy that fell completely flat.

" Tony?"

" Just - " he ran a hand over his face, and she could almost feel the weariness radiating off of him. " Can we not talk about it tonight?"

She paused. " Of course."

Then turning around, she held a hand out backwards to him, and watched him sigh, relieved, as he followed her in.


	5. Habit

**Habit**

He opened the door with a key, smart enough to announce his arrival as he stepped inside. He had learned that the hard way; coming home to be greeted by the barrel of a P228, when he had apparently approached too quietly, was not the way he liked his days to end. This time, however, there was no onslaught as he shook off his jacket and kicked off his shoes. In fact, there wasn't much of anything at all. This piqued his curiosity; on Friday nights they always came to her apartment, so she could do her Shabbat thing, much as she did. In fact, seeing that the two candles on her coffee table were already lit, he figured that she must have been somewhere in the apartment.

" Ziva?" His voice rang around the living room, and for a moment he was met with silence.

Kicking off his shoes, he walked sock-footed through the apartment, listening for sounds of movement. His hand hovered on his weapon briefly before he finally heard her voice. " In here Tony."

Wandering through the bedroom, he found her standing at her window with a sceptical look on her face. The curtains were twitched back, clutched in one hand, and early evening starlight poured in through the gap. " What are you doing?" he asked, coming up behind her and brushing the back of her neck with a fleeting touch. He loved when she wore her hair up like this; not severely, like she did when they were at work, but casually pulled back from her face, emphasising the graceful curve of her neck. He would never tell her that though: she would only laugh.

" I'm watching the _zikukim,_" she explained with a half glance over her shoulder, leaning back into his touch. Seeing his confused expression, she frowned, waving her hand as though filtering through all the languages in her brain, looking for the right one. " _Zikukim…__havaifisekler_…_feux_ _d'artifice_…_artifizio_," she eventually hit on the Italian word, pointing outside with a jab of her finger.

" Fireworks," he translated on her behalf, watching as one flew up and set the sky alight with a shower of red and gold. He noticed how she flinched as the sound of the explosion caught up with the dispersing colours. He didn't need to ask what was bothering her; though he knew little of her past, he could piece together enough to guess why the sound of unexpected explosions would set her on edge. " It's the 4th. They'll probably be going off all night." Rubbing her upper arms, he pulled her gently away from the window. " C'mon."

Back through the apartment and in the kitchen, Tony lifted the lid off of the simmering saucepan on the stove and sniffed. Hopping up on the counter next to him, she watched as he dipped a wooden spoon into the pot and tasted it, his eyes lighting up at the flavour. " Abby did not convince you to go to this uh…party with her tonight then?" she asked him, one eyebrow raised. After hearing Abby's plans, she had expected to spend the evening alone.

" The foam thing?" He shook his head as he pulled a carton of juice out of the fridge, ignoring her disapproving look and drinking directly from it. " Nope. As much as I love Abby, her friends scare the bejesus out of me." Wiping a trickle of orange juice from his chin, he grinned deviously. " I said I'd buy her lunch for the rest of the week if she gets McGee to go though."

Ziva couldn't help but laugh at the image – of the reserved, sweet McGee in a throng of undulating Goths, foam rising and lasers firing across the murky, sweaty floor – and the chuckle that emanated from her throat was low and deep. " I hope you told her to bring back evidence."

At that moment another bang of fireworks echoed through the apartment, and Ziva flinched again, her body tensing and her head automatically turning away from the noise. As the sound dissipated she looked more annoyed with herself than frightened, and so Tony didn't mention her reaction. " How long will the cholent take?" he asked, stumbling just slightly over the unfamiliar word, enough to make a smile ghost over her lips.

" We have an hour or so before it will be ready to eat." She watched as he wandered over to the front door, and began rifling through his earlier abandoned backpack. Jumping down from the counter she followed him, leaning one hip against the back of the couch. " What exactly did you have in mind?"

Shrugging, he continued his search, but looked up at her with a smirk. " Maybe our own little foam party?" he suggested, flirtatiously, barely ducking out of the way when a pillow soared towards his head. " What?!" he exclaimed, not even bothering to sound apologetic as the pillow skidded across the hardwood floor. " You have a six-foot bathtub in there, what did you - "

" Tony!" Her voice was amused, exasperated, and she studied him with raised eyebrows, tapping one bare foot on the floor.

Sighing dramatically, he reached into his bag one last time. " Or maybe we could watch some…_ Eskimo Limon!_" He pulled the dvd out with a flourish, unable to stop grinning as a wide, bright smile lit up her face.

" Where did you find this?" she asked, taking the dvd case from his hands as he stood up. She was surprised, both that he had remembered her mentioning the movie only in passing, and the fact she could not find a trace of it in the US, and also at the fact that he_ had _been able to get a copy.

He shrugged, unable to stop looking pleased at himself. " Ebay. But it's probably not _technically _legal, so…" he trailed off with a grin. " You want to watch?"

Two hours later found them settled on the couch, his arm draped around her shoulders, empty bowls on the coffee table in front of them and the credits rolling on screen. He had enjoyed the movie, but had paid more attention to the way Ziva had stifled her laughter in the back of her wrist, her head leaning lightly against his chest. She seemed to have forgotten all about the fireworks that still exploded periodically outside of the window. Leaning over, she pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. " _Toda,_ Tony," she murmured against his lips as he turned into the kiss.

" _Prego_," he murmured back, reaching up to briefly cup her cheek before pulling away. Untangling from their movie-watching embrace, he picked up their abandoned bowls, taking them into the kitchen and placing them in the sink. Off of her raised-eyebrow-look, he shrugged, " I'll do them in the morning." She knew that meant she would end up doing them the next night, as he would conveniently 'forget' about them before rushing off to work, but she nodded her head in acquiescence anyway.

Recognising her assent, he grinned, and began towards her when something resting on the end of the counter caught his eye. Stopping in his tracks, he picked up the magazine – badly hidden under his own copy of GSM – and held it out with a slightly disturbed look on his face. " You're kidding me, right?"

Her expression became one of false-innocence almost straight away, and she opened her mouth as though trying to decide what to say. " I am just considering my options," she half-lied, trying to snatch the magazine away from him, but he held it above his head, out of her reach. He knew she could take him down in an instant, but held his ground none-the-less.

" For someone just 'considering her options', these pages are pretty thumbed through," he accused lightly, a frown on his face. Then, looking through it more closely, he gave her a mock-glare. " You've folded the corners down."

Giving up, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Abby thinks it's cute."

" Abby drives a hearse!" Exasperation laced Tony's words, but he couldn't keep the smile from itching the corner of his lips.

" McGee says it's very safe. Besides, I think maybe I would do better with something more compact. Your American cars are all so large."

" But it's such a _chick _car."

" I am a chick!"

Her last words were punctuated with a last grab for the magazine, and ended up toppling them both into her refrigerator, scattering magnets across the floor. They landed, slumped, on the terracotta tiles, Ziva sprawled on top of Tony, who still had the magazine clutched in his fist. Looping her arms around his neck, Ziva pressed a long kiss to his mouth. " I like the red one."

Only an hour later, through Ziva's well-honed powers of persuasion, Tony had been convinced to go with her the next weekend to the Mini dealership. They hadn't even made it off the kitchen floor.


	6. Shadows

**Shadows**

When Tony finally got home from his 'errand' for the Director, his apartment was pitch black. Shutting the door closed behind him, he leaned his head against it, letting out a deep sigh. He didn't move until his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, and then found himself buoyed slightly by the sight of an abandoned pair of heels in the middle of the floor. The last text message he had received from her before heading out on the Director's orders had read: _Tired. Going to bed. _He was surprisingly thankful to find that she had meant _his_ bed. He could really do with seeing her face tonight; get rid of the uneasy feeling that was lurking in the back of his head.

Unbuttoning his shirt as he walked through the apartment, he let it drop to the floor as he entered the bedroom, material floating down like a very expensive leaf in the breeze. He smiled to see her sprawled in the centre of his bed, hair falling over one side of her face. Whispering her name, he waited until she had half-roused before reaching out and brushing her hair back from her cheek. " I'm home," he told her needlessly.

Blinking and pushing herself half-upright, Ziva squinted at the display on his alarm clock. " It's late," she mumbled as he undid his jeans and kicked them off of his legs. Toeing off his socks, he slid under the covers, wrapping his arms around her and breathing in the lingering scent of jasmine.

" I had to do some stuff for Jenny," he said, his voice low as he nuzzled into her neck. His hands on her slumber-warm skin were cold, but she only grumbled for a moment before settling, her back pressed against his chest. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, left bare by the thin straps of her tank top. " Go back to sleep," he prompted, but her eyes were already closed and her breathing slow.

With only a few hours to go before dawn, Tony closed his eyes, and let himself drift into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

It felt as though he had barely closed his eyes when he became aware of Ziva sitting bolt upright next to him. Knowing her reflexes, he pushed the covers off of himself as quickly as his sleep-fuddled co-ordination would allow, and reached for the gun on his nightstand. " What's wrong?" Noting that she did not move from her position on the bed, but simply stared ahead out of the open window, he moved his hand away from the gun, and brought it instead to touch her arm. He found her tense and trembling. " Are you okay?"

" I'm fine Tony," she said, shrugging off his touch, her voice quiet but tight.

" Hey, no you're not." Not touching with his hands, he scooted along the bed until their bodies were touching, shoulder to hip. She did not move away from him, so he tried again. " What's wrong?" Recognising her demeanour, he asked gently, " Bad dream?"

" Occupational hazard," was her taciturn response, but she didn't pull away as he rested a hand on her cotton-covered back, rubbing lazy circles in an attempt to quell her shudders. " I would rather not talk about it." Turning slighting, so her face was half towards him, she spoke without meeting his eyes. " I did not mean to wake you."

" Don't worry about it." He knew she hated this: the weakness, the vulnerability, the fragile humanity all shining through, as glaringly obvious as neon. He could feel her frustration at her own flaws radiating off her in waves.

He could tell she didn't buy his off-hand attitude when she shot him a glare. " Honestly Tony, you need more then an hour of sleep without me interrupting. You are team leader now. I should just go home." She was pushing herself up off of the bed before he had even registered her words, and by the time he had, she was already across the room, pulling her jeans on over the pair of his boxers she was wearing, her hair falling in front of her face.

" Hey!" he reached out and grabbed her arm to still it, but she pulled it from his grip. " Hey, crazy chick, would you slow down for a second? I don't want you to go." His mind was still trying to wake up, and he wasn't quite sure if he had done something to provoke this volatile response. As she went to walk past him, he caught hold of her hand, stilling her for a moment. " Would you just talk to me?"

In the silence, she agreed with the faintest nod of her head, but she did not speak.

He sighed, realising he was going to have to do the work in this conversation. " You want to tell me about your dream? Maybe talking about it would help…"

He had considered this to be a sensible suggestion – one he had heard many times, and it seemed to be the kind of thing therapists and shrinks always said in the movies. It did not, however, have the desired effect on Ziva; instead of placating her, it seemed to rile her even more. " I have lost people who I have loved, and I have killed people who others have mourned. I am not a victim for you to save. The world is not a perfect place, Tony."

Momentarily stunned, he watched as she removed her wrist from his grip, picking up her backpack and heading out of the bedroom. Following her, he watched as she slipped her feet into her shoes before replying, " I almost died of plague and watched one of my best friends get shot in the head in the space of a month. I know the world isn't perfect, Ziva."

His words stilled her, and as they sunk in, he could see her shoulders sag, and her defensive walls start to weaken. Turning to face him, she sighed. " I'm sorry."

" Don't say you're sorry," he recited, scuffing his bare toes against the carpet. " It's a - "

" Sign of weakness," they finished together. The silence that followed seemed thick and uneasy, and made both of them instantly weary.

Tony was the first to break it, leaning against the doorframe of his room. " Would you come back to bed, please? We both have to be up in a couple hours anyway, and I hear the boss is a real jackhole when people are late." It was a pedestrian attempt at levity, but there was an ineffable quality in his voice when he called her name: " Ziva."

She was still for a moment, and then nodded, dropping her backpack on the floor and stepping out of her shoes. Following him into the bedroom, she allowed him to gently unbutton her jeans, brush her hair back from her face, and whisper soothing nonsense words into her ear as they climbed back into bed. He wrapped his arms around her, and even though her body was tense, she sought out his hand, and intertwined her fingers with his.

In the hour before the alarm went off, neither one slept.


	7. Discernment

**Discernment**

The park was crowded, the afternoon sun beating down on swarms of children and parents out and enjoying the good weekend weather. She scanned the crowds, trying to make out the features of their suspect among the throng. She, Tony and McGee had scattered, each taking a separate part of the park; she could make out the figure of McGee over by the batting cages, but had lost sight of Tony some minutes ago. Probably flirting with the batch of tanning co-eds they had seen down by the entrance.

She was just thinking of an ingenious way to embarrass him in front of the preening sorority girls when her eye was caught by a figure sitting on a bench near the jungle gym. He did not look out of the ordinary – average height, non-descript, jacket folded on his denim-clad lap, simply watching the children as they clambered over the climbing frames – but Ziva found herself studying him carefully. Within a second she had recognised him as their suspect.

Slowly, she walked across the grass, springy underfoot, and approached the bench. She stopped about six foot from his position, and at that range, she could see the dark circles under his eyes, and the three-days-missing worth of stubble. " Lieutenant Jason Green?" She said his name, and he turned his head to look at her. World-weary eyes stared out from an angular face, and he cocked his head in an unspoken 'who's asking?' Twitching her jacket to reveal the badge clipped to her hip, she explained, " Officer David. NCIS."

He looked at her badge for a moment - at the way it shined gold in the afternoon sun - before turning his head back towards the jungle gym. " You're here for Tippy?"

Ziva followed his eye-line to a young girl swinging on the monkey bars, long blonde hair streaming behind her like a banner. As though feeling their gaze on her, the young girl jumped down from the monkey bars and turned their way, giving her father a grin and a wave. She was missing one of her front teeth. Her father waved back with a sad smile.

" Your wife called us," Ziva explained succinctly, her posture relaxed but unmoving, arms held loosely but purposefully at her sides.

" You mean ex-wife." His words were not angry, but corrective, and he shifted a little in his seat.

Ziva nodded her head. " Yes. You have not complied with your arrangements for custody. Your daughter was supposed to be returned to Norfolk three days ago."

There was a pause, and a sigh, and finally, " I can't."

She had just started in with, " I would be more than happy to drive her - " when she was cut off by his soft voice.

" You don't understand." He again shifted his position on the bench, and the jacket he was holding slid off his knee just a fraction. " I _can't _give her back. She's gonna' take her away from me and…I can't let her go." Under the material, something smooth and metallic glinted in the sun.

For a long second, it seemed like there was no sun, no breeze over the carefully trimmed lawn, no current of laughing conversations. Instead, there was only a complete stillness, as the butt of Lieutenant Green's gun pointed at the pink clad back of his six-year-old daughter as she sat at the top of the slide.

Heart beating in her throat, Ziva considered her options. The park was far too crowded for a shot to be safe, even as quickly reflexive as she was. And as she looked closer she saw that his finger was wrapped around the trigger, so any false move could see his a bullet through his daughter's torso, to be witnessed by a crowd of under tens.

" You do not want to do this," she started, her voice soft, her body perfectly still. In her mind she prayed for Tony and McGee to find them sooner rather than later.

Resting his forehead in his palm, he asked, " How do you know what I want?" Then, looking up, he studied her – from her carefully pulled back hair, to her heavily booted feet, to her small-statured figure in between. " Do you have children, Officer David?"

She hesitated for a moment. " No. "

" Then you don't understand." His voice was hoarse and had a tinge of desperation to it that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. " Tippy is the only thing in my life that I ever did right. She's the only person in my life that's ever thought I was worth something."

" So you wish to kill her? Let that be her reward?" Ziva slid her feet forward on the grass, moving barely an inch towards the bench. To a casual observer, it would seem as though she had been propelled only by the lazy wind. Realising he was listening, his hand resting gently on his weapon, she continued to speak, her voice working to create a placating mist around the two of them. " You are her father, she looks up to you. She does not deserve to remember you behind bars or being taken down by Federal Agents."

It was the first time he appeared startled, as though he hadn't really thought about what the outcome of his situation might have been. Incredulity seeped into his words as he murmured, " I don't want to kill her. I just want to see her happy before I…"

Tilting his head, he was further surprised by the sight of her sitting next to him on the bench. He hadn't even heard her move. She nodded her head, her palm open in his direction. " I understand," she said softly, and then, just as quietly she requested, " Give me the gun. Let this end as a happy day for your daughter."

With a glace across at the jungle gym, at the beaming, oblivious smile of his daughter, Lieutenant Green nodded his head. Unwrapping his hand from around the trigger, he took hold of the barrel instead, passing it across to her before dropping his head into his hands. His shoulders shook. Letting out a breath she did not realise she had been holding, Ziva unloaded the gun, sliding the ammunition into her pocket. " Thank you."

Out of the corner of her eye, Ziva caught movement, and looking up she saw Tony standing and watching, an odd look on his face. McGee stood beside him. She recognised the question in Tony's expression – was she all right? – and answered it with a silent nod. " Tippy is on the jungle gym. The blonde girl in the pink t-shirt. Lieutenant Green is ready for us to take her back to her mother."

Nodding his head, Tony turned towards the climbing frame. Ziva watched as he spoke to the young girl, a winning smile on his face. Tippy took his hand without reluctance.

Sitting on the hard wooden bench, Ziva let her hand rest briefly on the sobbing man's shoulder; a fleeting benediction. Then, without a word, she stood up and walked away, leaving McGee to deal with the aftermath.

Later that night, she lay in the bath, staring up at the pale-painted ceiling. No matter how much hot water she added, she couldn't stop feeling cold, and shivers wracked her body. She hadn't bothered to turn the bathroom lights on, so the room was gilded in shadows and dark. The only sound was from the water as it lapped around her body. She squeezed her eyes closed, tight.

" Ziva?" his voice was hesitant, and she didn't blame him. Since returning to the Navy Yard she had barely spoken to him, or to anyone else. She had watched the interrogation in silence from Observation, disappearing without a word when Lieutenant Green eventually broke down and confessed his purpose for having the gun: Tippy, dead. Him, dead by her side.

She had turned up in autopsy almost an hour later, behaving perfectly normal, save her eyelids, which were very red, and her skin, which was very pale. She mentioned nothing of what she had seen, but Ducky had read her face with ease and set about making her a cup of strong tea as he recited at her a tale from his cricketing days. He knew she was paying little attention, but by the time she had finished sipping the warm liquid, the colour was back in her cheeks, and he had felt more comfortable letting her leave.

She had let Tony drive her home.

Stretching her toes, she listened as the water sloshed against the high sides of the bath. " You may come in Tony."

His feet were bare and quiet on the tiled bathroom floor. She didn't open her eyes to look at him until she felt his presence perched on the rim of the tub. For a second she considered pulling him into the water, just for the fun, but her arms felt too heavy to lift, so she left him alone. When she looked up, it was to find him staring down at her, concern evident in his eyes; she hated when he looked at her like that, like he could see right through her.

" Are you alright?"

Since the afternoon her heart hadn't stopped thumping, nor her mind racing, and waves of nausea kept threatening to overwhelm her. " I stopped a father killing his daughter today," she said, her voice low: her way of an explanation.

" Yeah." His understanding carried in the deep expulsion of his sigh. " I know." Then, reaching into the water he took hold of her wrist, pulling her forward. " I'll get your back."

At certain moments in life, where there was nothing to be said, she knew it was enough to feel his soft hands on her skin, soothing the shivers and spreading the warmth with his touch.

Later, skin damp with water and sweat, she lay wrapped in his arms as he trailed kisses down her throat. Without thinking them, words tumbled from her lips. " When I was twenty-three, I was ordered on a mission that I did not expect to return from," she began, halting his kisses in their tracks. " My father was the Deputy Director of Mossad. He understood the risks. He sent me anyway." She paused, taking in his silence, listening to the newly falling rain outside the window. It had rained the night Gibbs left. " You asked me once, when it was that I first learned my father was not perfect?" He had been joking, and she had been terrified that somehow he would read the truth in her eyes. " It was when he gave me those orders, kissed my forehead, and bid me _shalom._"

For her, the silence seemed to stretch into hours. She could feel every second jolt through her like a gunshot, almost breaking her until she felt him lift his hands to cup her face, leaning up and pressing a hot, feverish kiss right at her widow's peak. It was followed immediately by his lips crashing down on hers, his hands holding her tight. She kissed back, just as fiercely, and for a long time there were no words, just hands and lips and whispered promises.

" You know I would never put you in danger on purpose?"

His breath was hot against her cheek, and she nodded, threading her hands in his hair. " I know."

" And I will always try and protect you." He murmured into her skin; she shivered, but no longer from the cold.

Pulling back, she looked into his face for a moment, her tone serious. " Some day you will not be able to."

His eyes were wide and bright. He knew where she came from, knew what she was, knew a little of what kind of life she had led before him and them and here. Enemies and vendettas came as standard. " I know."

In the midnight light, as their lips connected and hands played on glistening skin, there was a moment where Ziva felt as though they both knew where they stood. Like eyes adjusting and making out shapes in the dark, their kisses sealed promises neither could speak.

When eventually sleep came, she felt for the first time in a long time like she was finally able to rest.


	8. Acceleration

**Acceleration**

Since Tony had been in Germany, Ziva had drifted around NCIS like a wraith. Nothing to do – Jenny was keeping them off of major cases while McGee was left in charge – she was left restless, and took to visiting Abby's lab for long hours in the afternoons. While sitting down there, watching the young girl whirl around the room like a cyclone on uppers, her phone buzzed almost imperceptibly in the pocket of her jeans. She pulled it out, and the words _1 New Message _caused a smile to ghost her lips.

_Conference is so boring I'm running The Great Escape in my head. Where's a motorcycle when I need one?_

He sent Abby a message at the same time, and she was so distracted reading hers and excitedly typing her response, that Ziva had time to carefully craft her own reply.

_Keep dreaming Tony - you are no Steve McQueen. Besides, you have only one day left - we will see you tomorrow? _

The reply came back almost immediately. She could imagine him quite clearly: slumped in the back of the hallway, half listening to the droning speaker, Dictaphone recording all important points for him to review later. He would have his cell-phone in his hand, fingers clicking buttons as he alternated between his stupid Tetris game and the influx of messages.

_Flight gets in at 7. Should be at HQ by 9. Abby says she's freaking out without me. Are you? ;) __Ani mitga'gea elayich._

Shaking her head she wrote her reply quickly, glad that Abby's choice of crunching music covered the sound of her fingers tapping away.

_Sane as anyone could be after a year of knowing you…Mi manchi tanto._

Flipping her phone shut, she slid it back into her pocket, and tried to conceal the secret smile she could feel painting her lips. Without warning, Abby pulled her into a hug, arms around her shoulders and squeezing tight. She was so excited to hear from Tony; Ziva knew Abby feared everyone was leaving, and at some point she might be left alone. In deference, Ziva accepted the hug for a moment, before pretending she needed to check in with McGee.

Upstairs, she rearranged her files and entertained herself by freaking out Agent Lee – their new probie - by sharpening her knife at her desk. McGee was uploading software onto his computer, and noticed her just enough to raise his eyebrows in amusement.

After a few hours alternating between her desk and MTAC, where she sat with Jenny and watched in on one of their operations in practiced companionable silence, she picked up her backpack and, waving over her shoulder at McGee and catching the skittish eyes of Lee with a shadowed gaze, slipped into the elevator. For a moment, as she stood in the descending metal box, she thought back to her first time in Gibbs' 'conference room', and the way he had smacked her head and both of them had laughed. As she stepped out of the building and up to her car, she briefly wondered how the weather was in Mexico.

When she arrived home the red light on her answering machine was blinking in the dark, empty room. Flicking on the lights, she wandered towards the kitchen, shucking off her sweater and smacking the button as she went. Tony's voice filled the empty space.

_Hey, it's me. _

As if she didn't know.

_They're just loading us onto the plane so I, uh, wanted to call before I have to switch my cell off to say chalomot tovim. _

His pronunciation was still off, but as she pulled the juice carton out of her fridge it made her smile and shake her head.

_I should get into Michigan about seven your time so I'll call when I land. I have about an hour to kill between connections so…yeah. Just, you know, wanted to fill you in. Hope you haven't been causing too much trouble without me – 'cause you know I'll head about it from Probie mark two otherwise. _

There was a muffled noise of an overhead speaker in the background, and then Tony's voice came back.

_They're, uh, calling my seat number so I gotta go. Don't wanna miss the stewardesses demonstrating how to use the floatation devices._

His voice was a leer and she rolled her eyes – which she knew had been his exact intention.

_Talk to you in a few hours sweet cheeks. Laila tov. _

With that, she heard his phone click shut.

In the morning she would miss his call. She would leave the house early, unable to sleep, and the stereo in the car would be playing too loud. She wouldn't hear her cell phone ring.

When he arrived at the office, expecting to see her dark head of curls and secret smile, there would be no sign of her and the skin at the back of his neck would prickle.

He would leave her a second message just about the time an explosion rang in her ears.

As she was escorted into the Israeli Embassy, she would feel her phone buzz at her hip and see his name on the display. Realising how much trouble she could be in, she wouldn't pick up the call.

Less than half an hour later, Michael Bashan would hand over a folder full of pictures, and ask her what Tony had been doing at her apartment for the last four months.

Somehow, she would not be able to find the words.


End file.
